A couple of curlews were hanging around the garden yesterday, strange creatures, our only point of common experience the sharp pangs of desire, but even stranger was visiting the smaller of the two main burial chambers on the Papay Holm, small standing stones, roughly landscaped as it seems, and the inevitable fulmar sitting enigmatically among them:
I'm slowly getting back into a pattern of work, starting with a piece on 'comparative philosophy' that derives from a paper at Calgary a couple of years ago. What is 'comparative philosophy'?
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